


Well-Formed Monster

by SilenceInSanguine



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Almost Kiss, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Maedhros is a terrible guy, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 22:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10397889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilenceInSanguine/pseuds/SilenceInSanguine
Summary: -A small piece for Feanorian Week.-I also posted this on my Tumblr at Flamesofourblood.-This is a sort of internal monologue thing, from Maedhros POV.-Involves a side dish of Fingon because they cannot be separated.





	

Everything was taken from me within those cold, cruel halls.

My spirit, broken. My beauty, marred for eternity. My body, torn apart and rebuilt, bearing the permanent reminders of my torment

And let’s not even speak about what happened to my mind.

I’m ugly, both inside and out and I know for a fact that Morgoth had turned me into a shadow of myself. 

A monster by any other name would not be as horrific.

I laugh at the mirror when they finally let me leave the room I had been confined to. Look at me, how could anyone think me a worthy king? Monsters never made for good rulers.

I was glad to leave that room, it had been just like another prison to me. IIt was horrible being cooped up, so I left the room to taste my long awaited freedom.

But I’d lied to myself.

_I was never free._

Shadows would make me flinch and growl, the nights filled with terror as I awoke screaming. Only I could see the blood that coated every single thing within my sights.

Fingon would lay with me on the worst nights.

He would rub my back and whisper soothingly, or hold me down to stop me hurting myself.

I didn’t understand.

_I still can’t understand._

Could he not see? I was a monster, he should have killed me. He still could, he still could just smother me and say my spirit had passed in a blaze of glory. I just wanted to be free.

He wouldn’t kill me, not then, not ever.

I wanted to understand. Why would he do this for me? Why me, of all people, did he save me?

After all I did, he should hate me as much as I hate myself. 

He shouldn’t be kissing my scars, or holding my hair back as I retched into the sink from the nauseous terrors that crept up over me. This wasn’t right, he was the one who had been dragged to hell.

———————–

It got easier after years passed. I gave the crown to my Uncle Nolofinwe at some point after my physical wounds were healed, when only faint pink lines were painted over my skin.

My siblings reacted how I thought they did. But they didn’t know, they couldn’t know. I was not fit to be king. Neither were they, they were still young and full of that fire of hatred.

A ruler had to be cool, collected.

Like how I had thought my Uncle was.

A warm spring evening found me and Fingon sat up on the top of the fortress walls. I had considering just jumping to my death, whispers in the wind actively encouraging me to do it.

But Fingon had appeared and the voices were drowned out.

We talked for a while, almost like we used to. I said an offhand comment about how I was a monster and how he should stay away from me. He was something precious, a valiant spirit that could easily rival my soul’s fire.

He just looked confused. Did I not love him? Why was I pushing him away?

Fingon asked me why I thought so badly of myself.

I couldn’t answer and stared off into the horizon. He held my hand, spoke more insistently. Could I not see what he saw?

This was a strange question.

My beauty had given way to something more wild, something more… monstrous. There was a beast here and I knew it well enough.

_Because that was me._

Fingon continued to insist that I was being harsh on myself, before joking that I was rather well-formed, for a monster.

My cheeks were warm as he spoke and our lips were so close before Curufin and Celegorm came up to the high wall, both loudly declaring that there was bickering between my other brothers and cousins.

When I glanced to Fingon, an apologetic look on my face, he just smiled, patting my shoulder as we were led back inside.

_I wish we hadn’t been interrupted._


End file.
